The Accessories Make the Outfit
by thursdaywench
Summary: Sequel to Eden, but not necessary for reading.  Sam has decided to catalogue Tiffany's amulets.  Dean just can't help touching one and deals with consequences. written especially for those hurt!lovers. Hurt, Limp, Angst, Snark, Psycho witches. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

_**Hola everyone! This here be a squeal to **_Eden_**. and goes out for all you Hurt!Dean lovers! hehe, this is gonna rule...long live the twist. anywho, thanks much to Glitz for bein' one mad awesome beta, y'all know reviews are like Christmas, and I don't own anything on the Supernatural...though there are a few teeth marks on Sa-hehehe, nevermind! enjoy, review and have fun!**_

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_The Accessories Make the Outfit_

Lately, the downtime between hunts was Sam's favorite event. There was no violence, no new nasty waiting for them, no worrying if that hunt was their last. Plus, he had a new project that exercised his mind rather than his limbs. He decided to catalogue Tiffany's amulets and jewelry.

A witch who tried to use the Winchesters as a sacrifice, Tiffany had died at Sam's hand. Of course, after attacking Dean twice, and himself once, the witch had it coming. No pun intended. The late woman wove magic through her hands and her chains, storing and sorting power in endless ways. Predictably, she didn't exactly label each gaudy piece, and she wasn't Glenda, so Sam decided to research and document the collection rather than risk something malevolent be released if he tried destroying them.

Dean, however, wasn't interested in this task. He thought they were ugly hunks of junk, suitable for pawning only. He reserved trepidation for things with fangs or a bad allergy to salt.

"Hey Bobby, yeah, it's Sam." He figured that the older hunter would help in preliminary research. "Yeah, hunt was fine, usual crap, pesky black dog." He snorted at Bobby's reply, "Alright, pain in the ass black dog. So I'm looking at these amulets again..."

Dean toned Sam out, looking at the jewelry lying on the bed behind his brother, taking them in with his keen eyes. This stuff really_ was _butt-ugly. Unable to resist, Dean skimmed his fingers along the cool chains. Some glittering and delicate, others heavy and stiff. Sam, his attention on Bobby and the laptop, paid his curious brother no mind. Steadily Dean's amusement turned into a slight grin as he thought of the fit Sam would throw at the prospect of Dean's fondling. _Sheesh, didn't Sammy know, I'm the responsible one?_

"Alright Bobby, thanks. I'll check that site out." Dean stepped back, feigning innocence. But Sam simply turned his attention to the proffered website.

Dean gave into his bored nature, picking out an amulet from the pile. He slipped it over his neck and struck a pose. "Hey Sam, check out my bling." He grinned his widest grin and waited for the reaction he knew was coming.

"Bling?" Sam looked up distractedly, his reaction perfect. "Dean! What the hell? I told you not to touch those!" He made a grab for the chain.

Dean danced out of his reaction, "What? It doesn't go with my outfit?" Eyes twinkling, he gave a mock sad face and held the chain out from his body, jutting out the opposite hip.

"No, you retard." Sam huffed, "It might do something...unpleasant to you. Take it off."

Looking down, Dean fingered the stone, joke forgotten. It was black, but shone like a diamond, and was surrounded by wrought silver in a whiplash pattern. It wasn't ugly, really, gothic perhaps, but not ugly. He ran his thumb across the cool smoothness of the obsidian.

A sudden jerk in his solar plexus, Dean grunted and felt himself falling back into a black abyss.

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Sam jumped as Dean grunted and fell back. "Dean?" Sam said half suspicious and half concerned, watching his brother's stocky frame fall and disappear from his line of sight. Sam startled as Dean hit the floor and disappeared from his line of sight. "Dean. You okay?" 

Wary of another Winchester prank, Sam got up slowly to peer over the bed and found his brother sprawled, head back and hands clawing at the sky. His previously grinning face was twisted in a grimace, eyes screwed up against an invisible pain.

"Dean!" Sam crossed the small motel room in two strides and knelt by his brother, grabbing his rigid hand in his own. "Dude, wha-?"

The amulet, still hanging around Dean's neck, was pulsating slightly. "Dammit." Sam reached for it, figuring the pain would stop as it was removed. But he stopped as Dean's face and hands relaxed and remained still. "Dean?"

Sam made to let go of his brother's slack hand, but jumped again as Dean suddenly gripped Sam by the wrist. "Hey, Dean. You okay? Talk to me here."

Dean's eyes shot open, electric blue and vacant. He took a gulping breath and met Sam's concerned gaze. _Those weren't Dean's eyes_; Sam's trepidation increased ten fold as a malicious smile curved his older brother's lips. He sat up, still holding onto Sam, and pulled their faces inches apart.

"Sorry, Dean's not here right now, can I take a message?"

Reacting on instinct, Sam jerked back and gasped. That wasn't Dean. The calloused fingers surrounding his wrist tightened until the bones ground together, eliciting a wince.

"Didya miss me, Sammy-boy?"

"Who-?"

"Oh, I'm hurt." It pouted, an expression foreign to Dean's countenance even on a normal basis. "C'mon wonder child, I know you recognize me. Here," HIs free hand, the hand not gripping Sam's, moved in a complex pattern, "I'll remind you."

Pain rippled through Sam's head, sparing no space, and offering no mercy.

"Argh!" Bringing his free hand to his head, Sam tried to drive out the power, pressing his palm against his temple. It felt like serrated knives were cutting slices of his brain, moving with such slowness that Sam silently begged it to go faster. Instead, the force moved its way through his body.

Curling his aching head to his chest and shrinking in on himself, Sam barely felt the wrench and pop on his wrist.

The voice above him spoke, "You remember now boy? Do you remember?" So many times, that voice comforted him, laughed at him, even yelled at him. But now, as Sam shivered against the pain and horror, he feared that voice and its hijacker.

"Tiffany," he grunted as waves of burning pain continued to assail him. "You're dead. I killed you."

A low chuckle met his ears, "Ooh, and you'll pay for that, dear one. But no, I have back up methods."

The pain spiked as it rippled down Sam's spine. Arching, attempting to get away from a pain he couldn't escape, Sam yelled.

"Hmm, you've grown stronger than last time. Good. It'll make it so much more potent."

"Where's...Dean?" Sam ground out.

"Oh, don't worry, he's fine, trapped and mine." Again, a chuckle sounded. "I love rhyming."

Sam squinted through the din in his body at the witch possessing his brother. He arrived at one solution. Mentally uttering an apology, Sam drove his unbroken hand into his brother's alien expression, knocking the witch flat out.

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_**yeah, yeah, so i still gotta pimp the limp, so sue me. actually, don't. i have no money. hehe, anyway, hope you enjoyed. more to come...airing live from Dean's head! **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN cause i can: hey everyone, fangs for the reviews, loved 'em dearly. sorry if i didn't respond...real busy with work. ick. so, here's the moment y'all been waiting for...drumroll LIMP!! haha, jk. yup, you guessed it. the torture beings..dun dun dun. thanks to my loverly beta, dear Glitz. lots of questions mean better writing, dear, so thanks! i don't own Supernatural, much to my chagrin. if i did, i would totally share. no, really, it's true, sharing is caring. alright, alright, i'll stop rambling...**_

_**further AN: alright, so this is my second time posting this, i accidently posted the unbetaed version THWACK sorry! **_

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Dean hit the ground with a thump, wind rushing out of his lungs. What the hell? Great, now Sam had another I-told-you-so moment. But instead of his brother's gloating face, a woman peered at his prone form. A knowing smile curled upon her lips that made Dean's stomach churn.

"Tiffany" He grunted.

"Why, hello there lovely." Tiffany's eyes glinted as they traveled along his body. "So nice to see you again. No, don't get up," as he made to push himself up, "I want to take in this moment. There was no time before, now there is."

Dean found his body frozen to the spot as if her hand was actually grinding down upon his chest. It wasn't. "What the-? Sonova-!"

"Now now, swearing is unbecoming. Very well," The force lifted and Dean scrambled to his feet, automatically adopting a defensive position. Tiffany laughed, just watching as he backed away. "Oh, you are a treat. Why I didn't find you two before, I'll never know. Now, just relax and enjoy the view."

With a flick of her wrist, immediately, the tensed muscles in his back eased, the effect rippling down the rest of his body. "Shit! Stop that!" His mind was alarmed, on the defensive, but his body just stood lax. He stared, eyes blazing, when he noticed her long golden hair. It reflected the soft light, creating a kaleidoscope of blonde, surrounding her lean frame as it fell to her waist. Her eyes, impossibly blue, shone with amusement, desire and something more sinister that Dean could only associate with a tigress. But the sudden attraction was not his own. 

The thoughts running through Dean's mind felt alien, strange. "Hey! Stop fucking with my mind!" Angrily, he shook his head to clear it, and when he looked back to her, the presence had left, her control on him wavering. He wanted to attack her, to rid himself of her, but still his body had no response. Alright, one step at time for control, he told himself, hoping patience wouldn't run out.

Tiffany's laugh sounded all around, ringing even through Dean's body, sending shivers along his spine. Uttering a curse, he tried to rid it again, with no avail. "Silly boy," She stalked a circle around his still figure, watching from every angle, " In here, what I want, is what happens. As soon as you imprinted yourself on that amulet, I gained control. Thanks to your stupidity," she spat, "life will be granted to me again."

Making a mental note never to touch anything again and looking around, Dean asked, "Where are we, exactly?" His search found a broad expanse of blackness infused by an uncharted glow. Even though the expanse appeared vast, Dean felt claustrophobic in the encasing darkness. It seemed to go for miles, yet was only a small space.

"Not the brightest star in the evening, are you?" She sighed with the air of teaching a small child how to tie his shoes, "We're in your subconscious. Kind of drab, wouldn't you say?"

"If we're in my mind, why can you control things?" Dean ignored the jibe and concentrated on getting his body under control, to get his leg to slide forward a step. The muscle twitched, but remained still.

With an eye roll to rival Sam, she continued, "because my magic is at work, idiot."

"Excuse me for not knowing the finer points of the black arts, Sabrina." Pursing his lips, Dean put all his effort, his will, into moving forward. His right leg dragged 12 inches. "I'm gonna rip you to shreds."

Again, a predatory desire danced in her eyes as she watched. "Oh yes, I can feel it, your strength pushing, running through me. Oh, it's gorgeous!" Her back arched in ecstasy, Tiffany swayed as though enjoying a lover's embrace.

Dean raised an eyebrow, slightly amused and repulsed by her reaction. While he was used to the female population, that never really occurred just because his psyche. He was torn between pride and apprehension at the woman getting off on his mental energy. He chuckled, "Hey, if you and my mind wanna get a room. Sorry, the body's not too keen on old-hag sex."

Snapping back to him, the witch's eyes blazed a fiery blue. "I will break you of that soon enough. And enjoy every minute of you pain." Her hands began their dance.

Frantic, Dean could only prepare himself as a bolt of magic crashed against his back, surprising him from behind and driving him to his knees. On all fours, he gasped as electricity hit every nerve ending in his body. White hot pokers drove themselves into his joints. By lack of control only, Dean fell, curling into a ball as his body jerked and spasmed.

Through the haze, he heard her voice gleefully shouting, "Scream for me darling, scream!" Digging into himself, Dean refused to acquiesce and gritted his teeth in determination. He dimly heard the applause of an audience of one, "Oh, perfect! You are like a good book! So easy to read, and wonderful to devour! This is go-"

Her rant cut off and the power fled as Dean felt an explosion of pain across the bridge of his nose from an unseen force, cracking the bone. Dean yelled and rose his face to see Tiffany stagger, clutching her own nose. "Goddess curse you all!" 

Anger flooded the space, filling like a swimming pool until Dean thought he would drown in it. The taste of his own blood poured down the back of this throat, his sinus cavities drenched in the sticky sweetness of it.

As she pulled her hands away, thick glistening blood ran from her nostrils. Bringing his own up to touch his throbbing nose, Dean also found blood. Shaking, their eyes darted to each other and their mirrored injury.

Tiffany recovered first, understanding spreading like the liquid on her face. "He hit you, hit me! Oh, you two Winchesters are going to pay dearly! Well, I guess I continue to underestimate dear Sam. Good. While he takes care of our body, I can take care of you." 

She closed her eyes, face tilted upward. The blood flow ceased, then vanished altogether. As Dean's thoughts run rampant about his brother and the reality in which he belonged, Tiffany staggered again. "Whew. Healing really does take a lot out of me. Or, should I say, out of your body. Sorry, we'll have to continue this later." Is Dean still bleeding?

Dean's last thought as he slipped away was that Sam would figure it out, that his geek boy brother had the research down. But before he could voice his assertions, the dark recesses of his mind that allowed no thought held out its arms and he met it gladly.

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_**next, on TAMtO, what does Sam do to get his brother back?**_

_**reviews are nifty!!! **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN: Hey kids! alright, so here's chapter 3. Thanks everyone for the reviews, can't wait to hear more (literally, i have no life, y'all's comments are all i have!) now let's get on with the show. not much action this chapter, but it was necessary. **_

_**Don't own Supernatural, would be a cash cow if i did. thanks to Glitz and her great Beta skillz, loves to you and all the chickies out there!**_

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Kerry Coltraine liked sleep as she enjoyed the wild vibrancy her dreams had. In fact, her dreams weren't normal. With the power to inspect, invade, and change others' dreams, she surfed along their fantasies and stood privy to their deepest nighttime fears. Okay, so the nightmares didn't hold sway over her joy, but sometimes, she helped someone overcome that fear. Whether it was slaying the horde of spider swarming over a 5-year-old's bed or noticing and delighting in a 20-something guy's nudity, Kerry knew exactly what a person needed to be fearless in the land of the Sandman.

So when she began to doze off in a history lecture, she eagerly anticipated her next adventure. As the droning of the Roman Republic faded to a buzz, a motel room came into focus in her mind's eye. She stood between two beds, each holding a single occupant. Looking down, a slow smile spread over Kerry's lips as she recognized Sam Winchester. A soft mop of brown hair fell across his face as he hugged the pillow, chest rising and falling deeply. Kerry sometimes wished her dream-ventures came with a camera, because she couldn't remember a time where she'd seen Sam actually peaceful. Of course, the previous time they had been together, he'd been trapped in an endless stream of visions, blood pouring from his ears. Some stupid bimbo of a witch tried to kill them, and Sam's brother.

Her smile became became strained as she reached down to brush a hand through his hair. But no, that wasn't even the tip of the ice-burg on this man. As the ultimate dream reader, Kerry had walked into Sam's dreams more than once since their meeting. Most of the time, she could help a person get over their fears, but not Sam. For some reason, she could never douse the flames that dominated his nightmares. As she put all her power into getting rid of the gun clenched between his long fingers, Kerry only watched as he pulled the trigger over and over, victim of his brutality switching between an unfamiliar black man, Dean, and even Sam himself. Since Kerry had no idea who this man was, or why Sam was shooting him, there was nothing she could do. Usually, the mental link shared with the dreamers and Kerry would help her decide a course of action, but Sam just existed in the dreamland, acted out what his consciousness wanted. The shooting Sam would cry, rage, scream as each bullet pierced flesh and bone, seemingly in endless supply as the body changed form with every shot. Pulling on her last resort, Kerry forced Sam awake, her own body slipping deeper into a sleep where no one dreamed to revive her energy. This happened nearly every other week for the past two months. Kerry was beginning to dread his appearance.

Now, however, he simply shifted under her touch, no guns or fires plaguing him. She looked over at Dean, letting out a startled gasp. As a general rule, she kept out of his dreams. She tried once, and didn't want a repeat performance, no matter how hot her starring role was. Her eyes flew across his body, taking in his swollen nose, black eye, and messy clothing. But, most alarming was the handcuffs holding him to the bed. Confusion swept over her as Kerry took in the dried blood on his shirt, but also the bandage placed carefully over his well cleaned yet broken nose. Raising an eyebrow, she looked back and forth between the brothers.

"Alright, y'all have some 'splaining to do." Without further thought, Kerry pounced on Sam's bed, jostling the sleeping giant. "Wakey wakey in the dreamy land Sammy."

"Huh?" Jerking 'awake', Sam reached up for the knife Kerry knew was under his pillow. Twisting himself upwards and around, Sam jumped again as Kerry wiggled her eyebrows at him, sitting Indian style. "Kerry? My God! What're you doing here? How'd you get in?" He shot a look at the door, baffled as he saw it was still locked.

"Silly, you're still dreaming. C'mon, like I have money to travel? During the night? To god-knows where? Dream-catcher here, remember?" Kerry tilted her head in Dean's direction, who remained undisturbed by the connection. "Do I want to know? Or should I help you pick out a cute collar for him?"

"What?" Sam nearly fell over, sputtering, "No! That's just- dear Lord- that's just wrong. He's my brother! And even if- aww man!" He put his palms against his eyes, most likely to banish disturbing mental pictures. But when Sam took his hands away, the devilish grin plastered across Kerry's face melted in a mili-second. Tired eyes silently pleaded with her as Sam let out a loaded sigh. "Kerry, it's Tiffany. She's possessed Dean. He- he touched one of her amulets, now he's..."

"Bitch." Realization flew through Kerry. "Oh no, not Dean being a bitch. sorry. God, no, this can't be happening." It was her turn to bury herself behind her hands. "God Sam, my life, it was just getting back together. Nothing abnormal. Just classes, friends, horrible cafeteria food and college. Why? Shit, WHY?" Her last word was punctuated by the slamming of her fist into the bedspread.

"Hey. Kerry, hey." Forgetting his troubles, Sam automatically went into comfort mode. He took her hands into his own, dwarfing them. "Hey, look. We'll figure this out. We just have to find an exorcism ritual. I'll go to Bobby, a family friend." He snorted, "Funny, whenever someone gets possessed, 'let's go to Bobby!'"

Kerry hiked an eyebrow, "You okay there Sam? Maybe I should let you go back to mindless dreams. You seem a little...unwound."

"No, no. Sorry." Sam shook his head, "It's just tough, all this crap. I thought it was over. Then Dean has to go and touch the necklace. Stupid idiot. But I can't blame him, 'cause it's all Tiffany's psychotic dealings. God! This sucks."

"C'mon Sam." Now they were practically hugging, leaning on each others' support. "It does suck. It's no one's fault except for hers. We can do this. You go to Bobby. Take care of Dean." Kerry frowned, "Wait, he touched it?" Sam nodded. "Dumbass. You pop him one? Is that why he's hurt?"

Again, Sam nodded. "Yeah. I couldn't think of anything else. So I...knocked him out. Dean's gonna be pissed."

"What else could you have done? Stop wallowing, wake yourself up, and put his ass in the trunk. Rid us of her crazy witchy ways, and we got nothing to worry about, right?"

Sam snorted, "Right, so easy. She can still do magic with his body, Kerry. It nearly got me before. I can't keep slugging him, I just can't." The tiredness crept back into Sam's gaze.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Now she really did hug him. Pulling back, she bit her lip, "Umm, hate to sound like a drug lord, but what about sedatives?" Sam looked downright alarmed, "Alright, alright, no drugging." She sighed, dreading what she said next. "I can...induce sleep."

"What? How?"

Kerry ducked under his inquisitive stare. "Well, just keep whoever I'm visiting in their dreams, or force them out." She stole a look, wondering if Sam knew she interrupted his nightmares. He gave no notice, "I can keep Dean under while you high-tail it over to Bobby's. I have a day off tomorrow anyway." She sighed, beginning to shift back homework she had planned on doing that day.

"Please?" Resistance was futile, looking into those soft hazel eyes, and she acquiesced.

"Just give me like three hours." At a further questioning look, she continued, "I have to get home, eat and shower. This will be like falling into a trance, or coma, for me. Last time, I woke up and nearly passed out from dehydration.

"Last time?"

"Alright Sam, class is over for me, don't want the professor knowing anything. You'll know when Dean's under. Or would that be Tiffany's under? Anyway, back to sleep, love. I'll be in touch."

As they melted together in a sleeping embrace, the sounds of the lecture hall resurfaced, and Kerry packed up her bags to begin yet another journey.

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**_Next, shall we get in Dean's head again? really? sounds fantabby!_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN: alright, so you should all thank Glittergoddess for this fawesome chapter! if it weren't for her, you wouldn't have it so quickly, or so grammatically correct! haha. really, it was bad. Dean felt tits (sorry, it'll make sense when you read) anyway, without further ado, here ya go! thanks, as always, for the support, reviews, and reading!**_

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Dean was wrenched from his innermost core by the searing jolt of a thousand hooks. Agony washed through his mind-body as he appeared to his captor. 

"Urgh, you bitch!" The deep timbre of his thoughts betrayed the pain Dean felt as the biting barbs embedded themselves further into him. There was no place to put the pain, no area to categorize it, as Tiffany exerted her power over the young man's body and mind. His very essence was attacked, needles digging deep, not into flesh, but something more insubstantial. There was no mouth for Dean to verbalize the insults he longed to throw. He simply became those thoughts and hurled himself at his high-jacker.

He could see her standing in the middle of the softly lit plane, but as the sharp pain began to burn like white-hot steel, Dean could find no limbs to place the torture. His soul cried out, seeking the solace of his mind's sanctum, as glaring javelins of power rent itself through his being, shredding holes near that core.

"No!" The witch bellowed, echoing through Dean. "You cannot escape what is already inside you, boy! You will learn the meaning of control when I've finished with you."

With the rapidity of a second, the power changed to a dull force, squeezing Dean. He felt like a foot jammed into a boot, a thick liquid in a tiny bottle. She was compressing his life force, beating him to fit in her pocket.

"Holy Jesus," Dean worked to pull his being into a shape, to find himself like he had first appeared. A dull ache soon matched her continuous pressure as he fought to control his form. "You'll...never...teach me...control!" His thoughts, sluggish as they were, held the bite and stubbornness born to him by his father. Submission was no option, not for Dean Winchester.

Power surged and slammed into him, threatening to squash the hunter out of existence altogether. "You will bow! You are mine!" Tiffany's voice screeched through the pounding domination.

"I...Will..NOT!" Dean put all the energy his body and soul possessed into one solid push, creating a metaphysical upper-cut targeted at Tiffany.

Shrieking incoherently, the witch's projected mental image flew through the plane, blinking out of vision as she reached some sort of boundary.

Taking a deep energizing breath, Dean found his body was back on this existence, his mind creating an image of himself in an everyday outfit. Jeans, boots, t-shirt and maroon over-shirt fit his body like they always had. Even his necklace shone through, actually letting off a dull glow. Relieved to have a moment's peace and his projectional body back, Dean fingered the gold gently.

"Ho, boy, last time I did this, there was a bit of trouble." He grinned down at his own amulet. "but not from you, my friend."

Laughter sent a shiver down Dean's spine as he felt it all around and in him. He could feel Tiffany like she was just behind a curtain. Her voice whispered, wrapping around him in a suffocating bond. "I'm not done with you yet, little hunter."

Focusing his energy once again, Dean lashed out. Tiffany's pain was lace with pleasure, emotions lingering on his tongue like bad milk.

"You are one freaky bitch, you know that?" Dean shouted, "But you're not getting me! Nah, I like my dames on the sane side up. You'll feel a fight like no other! Besides," he added, "you picked the brother with anger issues."

He turned his thoughts to Sam, confident that Tiffany couldn't be making an appearance in his mind. _So this is what possession felt like, huh? Gotta hand it to ya little bro, you carried it off pretty well. _He knew Sam was in full research mode, no doubt clacking away at his laptop and probably freaking out in true Sammy fashion. He knew they now had a litany of exorcisms at their disposal, thanks to the airplane, Meg, and Sam's own possession of the same demon. Dean had full faith in his brother would see Tiffany back to hell.

But the twinge of doubt burrowed its way into Dean's thoughts. What would Tiffany force Dean's body to do in the meantime? What terrible things would be uttered using his lips? She knew they were close; would Tiffany work the emotional torment same as she worked her magic? Of that, Dean was certain. He only prayed Sam would stand through it.

"Your brother is weak." Though still formless in the small room that went for miles, Tiffany's conscience was ever present. Dean kicked himself. Of course she could hear his thoughts. He scrambled to think of anything, anything but-

"Oh, you traded your life for his?" Amusement played across Dean, leaving behind an uncomfortable prickling. "That _has_ to hurt dear Sam. I wonder how kindly he would take to hearing his brothers' wishes that he hadn't done such a feat?"

Loosing control, Dean forced his spirit in all directions, shoving with enough gusto that he felt a dull repercussive ache. Before he could re-gather into an immaterial ball, Dean felt a ripping in his abdomen that was akin to a cannon being shot through his gut at point-blank range. There could be no breath drawn because there were no lungs. His heart didn't beat, becoming only a solid black fragment of dead cells. He watched in horror as his organs plopped out of the hole that was his torso. Dean knew it was a trick. His body was still intact in the corporeal world, but the pain-unimaginable, wrenching, seething pain- as his intestines shriveled and dropped onto his boots. He tried to speak, but the only thing expelling from his lips were blood and other gray bits. His body tore at itself, inside out. A deep moan echoed through the space, barely recognizable as his own. Invisible claws ripped his stomach to pieces, a bizarre pain that nausea was too weak a word to describe.

Dean tried to dissolve the form, to once again become the thought-mass. The resistance he met was like the insurmountable walls of Troy. He had nothing, nowhere to go, and no trojan horse.

Tiffany once again amalgamated, head held high and hands making ripping motions, "You see, Dean? I control all here. You are no match. Brawn will get you nowhere. Are you ready to submit? Give me this glorious body, the pain can end." Though her face showed kindness, Tiffany's eyes were alight with a fervor devoid of human emotion. She wanted him, all and whole. Dean felt the noxious energy sweep up through his throat to his nasal passages. As he choked on his own ruination, the young hunter had a brief instant where he wished she would complete her offer. Whisk him off to death where peace would come. "Come love, the pain will stop. You can be with your father. I'll take care of Sam, and soon, he too can join your family in hell. Perhaps sooner than you think. I don't think he'll last as long as you."

A great and terrible rage began to build itself in Dean. There was no way this scum of a woman was touching his brother. She had forgotten the most important thing to Dean was not life, but the life of Sam. However, this emerging beast was not without thought. Remembering that the last time he lashed out without notice, Dean had allowed her in, he let great blocks of cold fury build slowly. He stored and assembled, pain becoming a secondary feeling. Dean created a fortress of wrath. When the last brick was placed, he ground himself into the very center of his being and struck.

Dean's carefully cataloged dark emotions formed a battering ram and with shattering determination knocked Tiffany to her own deepest corner. She couldn't laugh, couldn't taunt. The only thing she was capable was to cling to Dean's body, to make sure she continued her possession. Gripping by her metaphysical fingernails, Tiffany laid dormant to re-gain her strength.

Dean felt himself drift too. In control still, he allowed his mind to float along the transcendent river of his soul, deep calming waters carrying him to yet another presence. Dread filled him as he reached it, mind worn out from his last encounter.

But this being didn't feel like the witch. No cold seeped in, no malcontent poisoned Dean's body, no dull pain swept through. This caution, concern, warmth, a playful hint of joyous laughter.

"Hey Dean." A voice of clear Spring echoed, "It's Kerry. You remember, me right? Um, I talked to Sam. He's okay." She said quickly, seemingly also able to sense the emotions running rampant through Dean's mind. "He said Tiffany- she's back. And in your body." The voice laughed, bells ringing, at his psychological eye-roll. "My power can keep her dormant, keep you asleep. Sam's taking you to Bobby."

Dean's alarm at her growth in power was superseded by the mention of Bobby's. _Good, Bobby would know what to do. _He continued floating towards her, a greenish light that was neither abstract nor distinct. It was like the other plane, but felt warmer, safer.

"Don't worry Dean. My power is not like Sam's. We don't share the hellish nightmares of demons with gross eye problems." Her voice held a melancholy edge, "Your brother's power is far worse, I'm sorry to say. But rest now, big brother. Let me take over as protector."

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**you thought this chapter was twisted? wait for the devil horns to appear, cause we're twistin' some more in the next chapter!**

**Til then, later days! **


	5. Chapter 5

**_AN: sorry this is so long between chapters. work is horrendous, and writing this chapter is kinda hard, what with the next thing that happens. I know i promised y'all that this chapter would be the heavy hitter, but i'm a chickenshit, and couldn't bring myself to write it yet. so next chapter will be the big whammy, this one sets it up quite nicely though, so i promise i'm not wasting your time. _**

**_thanks for all the reviews, they are a true kindness. thanks to Glitz for her prompt and complete beta-ing. i don't own the Winchesters or that fantabulous car they drive, but hey, no one said borrowing wasn't allowed. _**

**_read on!! reviews are like candy!!_**

**_edit: argh!! so the beta comments actually made it into the story...shit. sorry!!! _**

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The hours melted into one viscous liquid of time as Sam drove thoughtlessly through the interstates and back country roads. Dean slept in the passenger seat, cuffed to the door handle, held under by some trance induced by Kerry's power. _No, not Dean held under, __Tiffany-that bitch who couldn't just leave us alone, even in the death. _Occasionally, the passenger would grunt or shift, causing Sam to jump with fear and hope. Who would wake? Tiffany, to wreak havoc? Or Dean, finally defeating the disgruntled spirit? Since Kerry's invasion, who was in the most power? The questions plaguing Sam were not easily answered. 

As Sam's knuckles grew stiff and white on the Impala's wide steering wheel, these questions plagued at him. Owing, no doubt, to Sam's questioning nature and analytical mind, caffeine was rendered useless as his mind kept him wide awake. Questions, theories, outcomes, and information all held joint meetings, subtitled under the umbrella of why the heck did this crap always happen to them? Though he didn't like to think of himself as a pessimist, Sam couldn't help but dread the moment his brother's form awoke. Dean was strong, one of the strongest people Sam knew, but could he stand against magic and torture inside his very being?

Sam shook himself for letting those morbid thoughts run rampant. Of course, Dean could get past this. He had Kerry, Bobby, and Sam all on his side. Clearing his throat, sitting straighter, and tightening his already numb grip on the wheel, Sam jumped as he heard his name.

"Sammy, you drive like Miss Daisy." Dean's voice was low, as if he just had woken from a deep slumber. "Ten and two? C'mon kiddo, I've taught you a greater level of cool than that."

Sam was hopeful as he turned to his brother, the snark so familiar. But as ice-blue eyes met his own tired hazel ones, that hope took a swan dive to the pit of his stomach.

"Tiffany."

"You were expecting someone else? That little tart of a dream-weaver? Dean? You think they are more powerful than me? Boy, I have been alive longer than this country. And still would be, if not for your stupid meddling." She jiggled the cuffs on Dean's wrists. "Like these could hold me." Even as she stared at the restraints, the shackles fell away.

Sam jammed on the brakes, squealing the tires, and jerked the muscle car off the road, spraying gravel as it halted on the shoulder. He didn't want to be in control of a moving vehicle if she tried anything.

"Ah, so kind of you. I didn't want to hurt this impressive boy with a collision."

Sam gripped the wheel as tight as he could, loosing circulation in his fingers. Darting his eyes between his brother's stolen body and one of their duffel bags sitting on the seat between them, Sam wondered if he could get to its contents before the witch did. In it was a tranquilizer gun, but more importantly, it housed Tiffany's arsenal. Sam had debated on bringing them, and then decided that to be without them might prove a greater hindrance. What if they needed the amulets to get Dean back? Besides, Tiffany wasn't supposed to wake up. She followed his stare and a curl twisted Dean's lips. Sam dove for the bag and its tranquilizer. With a flick of a wrist, he was thrown against the driver's door, head cracking on the glass.

"While I admire your determination, I grow weary of your antics Sam." The witch pulled out her many amulets, sorting them and pulling on a few before selecting a very heavy chain. If not for the blood-red garnet attached to its end, Sam would've said it belonged in London Tower, amidst instruments of torture. Thick steel links connected into each other, no end in sight, and an ominous clack sounded with every movement Tiffany made. Calloused hands rubbed against the jewel, not unlike Dean had previously that sent this horror into motion, warming it and causing a red light to emit from its depths. Sam watched, an uncontrolled fascination stealing his fear, as the links began to move of their own accord. The way to associate such an occurrence is like Tiffany had awoken a sleeping cat. As she massaged the garnet, the chain wiggled and stretched, rubbing along their master's new skin. Sam's eyes widened in trepidation, as they undulated and began to creep along the seat towards him.

"What the-?" He slammed a fist upon the metal snake, only succeeding in bruising his hand. It continued its progress, unhindered by his abuse. Sam pressed into the door as it neared his jeans. Fumbling with the door handle, Sam tried to escape the obscene reptile, but the door wouldn't budge. As the first link pulled itself onto his leg, Sam remembered the extra gun in the door's compartment. Snatching and cocking it, Sam fired twice into the chain. As the sound of the shots abated, Sam was horrified to see two small holes in the leather interior, and the unharmed chain nearly all on his lap.

"Tiffany, what's going on?" He shot a frantic look at his possessed brother, who looked smug.

"Well Sammy, I like this body, and need to keep it. Of course, that little spell requires much more energy than just what Dean and I have. So I can't just let you get away, killing you now would be a waste, and exorcising me just won't do. I'll just have to make sure none of the above happen."

Close up, Sam could see that the chain was broken into two parts. Again, he attempted to shove them off as they wound slowly up to his navel. His dexterous fingers scrabbled along the links, finding no space between them and his body. The warm metal scraped along his chest, conforming tightly as they ventured across his rib cage, climbing to reach his shoulders. Determined to stop their progress, Sam bashed the hilt of the pistol into his own metal decorated shoulder. Pain lanced through his right arm as the blow did nothing but hinder Sam. He gasped in pain and shock as they constricted around his biceps, pulling his arms together. As if magnets had come to life in both strands, they pulled on Sam as they neared the end of their weaving expedition to his wrists. He flexed his arm muscles in resistance, but to no avail. Sam could only grit his teeth as the reptilian metal wound back together, securing his hands together.

Fully panicked, Sam shouted, "Dean! Stop her, please!" And as he searched his brother's gloating face, he noticed with horror, renewed by such glee at Sam's terror, that one distinct change had come over his brother.

Staring back at Sam were not Tiffany's frigid blue eyes, but Dean's deep forest green ones, bursting with terror and guilt. Mirroring this terror, Sam knew that Tiffany had let Dean see what she was doing to his little brother. The sneer crossing Dean's features told both men just how much the witch was enjoying drawing power from their pain.

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As the keeper of dreams, Kerry led Dean through a dense forest. He knew it wasn't real. It was all a part of her power, but the cool blades underfoot still provided a soft path for his boots.

"I hate the woods," he said.

Kerry, walking along beside him in her bare feet, shot him a quizzical glance. "Why is that? My power seeks out what would help a person, and this is what your mind presented."

"You didn't create it? I thought you were all tripped out with the mojo." Dean waved his hands around.

"No," she laughed, "I just enhance what's already there. The woods seemed less personal for me to enter." She bowed her head, knowing that he would be mad at the invasion of his personal space.

Dean's face went sour at the likelihood of his subconscious laid barren for Kerry's perusal. He quickened his pace and stared hard at the towering canopies of the oak trees. He wanted to be by himself, to have his mind and his body his own. _Leave me the fuck alone! _screamed through his head.

"Dean, I'm sorry." Kerry jogged to keep up, toes barely touching the earth. Her voice quaked with regret. "I'm sorry, okay? I can't help it. I just wanna help you!"

"Yeah?" Dean whirled, their chests nearly touching. He was breathing hard, trapped by his own mind. "Yeah? You wanna help? Get outta here! Stop invading me, stop with the hocus pocus! Get that bitch outta my system, then get gone! This psychic shit is really starting to annoy!"

Biting her trembling lip, Kerry looked down and stepped back. "Right. You're right. I'll..." She trailed off, hurt and exhaustion threatening tears. "I didn't mean..." She reached up a shaking hand and wiped her eyes, turning to go.

_Crap. _ Heaving a sigh and pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose, Dean felt the stab of a guilt trip. "No Kerry, _I'm _sorry. I shouldn't have said-"

"No, you're right. I shouldn't have interfered. You never would've met her if not for me." She looked back and offered a watery smile, "But Dean, if I leave now, it just gets worse." Her smile went hopeful as she took a deep breath. "So you're stuck with me. We get through this, I'll never bother you again, okay?"

"Shit. No," Dean ran his hands over his face and through his spiked hair. "Really, I shouldn't have said that. _You're _right, your powers are the only thing keeping me a float here. So...thanks."

Kerry's smile deepened, "Great! And c'mon, it's not just me. You blasted that witch somethin' fierce."

They turned and began walking, normal paced.

"Nah, it's just the power of the mind!" Dean winked and tapped his temple, "My brain's like friggin' Hercules."

Laughing and skipping with an unexpected child-like exuberance, Kerry slipped her arm through Dean's and rested her hand on his forearm. And so they walked, foul tension disbanded. With the lighter mood, the dream forest took on a new vibrancy.

"So...a forest, eh? In my subconscious? I hate camping. Freakin' wendigos everywhere."

"Don't think there's any wendi-whatsits here. Maybe that's why." Dean hiked an eyebrow. "No wendi-thingys in the forest. The absence of bad. Look, I really don't know how to explain it. Psychology is for crazy people. Let's just get you safe and get Tiffany dead."

"Amen my sister!"

Suddenly, the temperature dropped twenty degrees, leaving them shivering. Wind whipped at the couple and the sun refused to shine.

"I'd love to see you try and get me dead, little one." Dean instinctively pushed Kerry behind him as Tiffany materialized not ten feet from them. Ice eyes blazing, the witch raised her hands and began working them in a complex pattern. Kerry shivered in terror at meeting her ex-captor and pressed herself into Dean's back, hand fisted into his over-shirt. "Now Kerry, we've been through this before, your powers are no match for me. Now be a good girl, and WAKE UP!"

Tiffany shoved with her hands and with her power. A brilliant flashing light, and Dean found himself back where Tiffany always had him, and Kerry gone. He fell back and the witch towered over him.

"Now darling, I admit, that was impressive. I haven't felt that kind of wallop in a good long time. Lovely." She clapped her hands, a cold gleam radiating from her visage. "However! Enough joking and games. You hurt me pretty badly, that won't go unnotic-"

"You can do whatever you want bitch." Dean growled, climbing to his feet. "You know I can dish it right back. Bring it on Glenda." She didn't have to know how much it really did hurt him.

But to his chagrin, she simply clapped her hands again and laughed delightedly. "Silly boy, I didn't mean _you_! Someone brought that disgraceful little dream weaver here, and I think I know who. Dear Samuel must pay for this insolence."

Dean's mind condensed and expanded, creating a no thought except for that of Sam's safety. Releasing a roar of indignant rage, he launched himself at the witch who dared threaten them. But instead of moving into a defensive posture or throwing up a spell to ward him off, Tiffany opened her embrace wide to catch him. As the force of his tackle knocked them both backwards, Dean felt her hands latch onto his back, trapping him to her. The next second, they hit the ground and Dean felt an explosion behind his eyes. His scream of pain matched Tiffany's own. As he was thrown down a dark tunnel, her yell changed to a scream of vicious delight. It echoed and faded behind him as he traveled to an ending unknown, darkness giving way to a sight that he least expected.

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**_AN: if this chapter seems a little confusing as to time frame, don't worry, it shall be cleared up in the next one. can y'all figure it out already?  
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**_i don't know when i'll be able to get the next chapter up because my _**_**compy took a swan dive out of a 2nd story window, and work is a bitch, but i'll try and make all haste to get it up. :D**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_AN: sorry guys!! so sorry! and really really big sorry to my Dean girls out there! i kinda...yeah. it kinda got limpage. _**hangs head**_ and it's been so long since an UD. again, i apologize like whoa. this chapter is one of those one's you don't want to write cause, well, it's our boys, and we love them. ah well, guess we hurt the one's we love. anyway, i'm just borrowing from the great Kripke, so yeah. carry on!_**

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For a fleeting second, Dean thought he was free; released from his mental prison. The interior of his beloved car met his gaze and the smells of leather, gasoline, and gun powder greeted his nose like an old friend. But as his eyes fell on his brother and he tried to speak, Dean realized that he had no control over his voice or his body. Under his fingers, he could feel the smooth surface of a gem, while leather seating pressed into his back. However, he could do nothing to quell his fingers' massage, nor could he move to help Sam.

"Tiffany, what's going on?" The shrill edge to Sam's voice drew Dean's attention like a moth to light. He felt his lips pull into a smirk, and noticed the two unnatural beings snaking their way towards the driver. _Hey! _ Dean wanted to shout, _Hey! Don't touch him! Get the fuck away from my brother!_

But instead, Dean felt the rumble of his voice telling Sam smugly, "Well Sammy, I like this body, and need to keep it."

Dean growled, _Sister, you ain't gettin' it._

"Of course," his voice continued, "that little spell requires much more energy..." Dean tuned out his own voice as those horrid chains continued on their path to Sam, climbing his lanky body.

_No!_ Dean raged as his baby brother's eyes shown with fear. _Don't touch him!_ He concentrated his will on getting his body to move, to follow his instructions. Focusing on his lips, Dean drove all his being into stopping the quell of revolting speech, to halt the witch in her tirade. _ARGH!_ Coiling like a spring, Dean once again tried to lash out at Tiffany. His attack was met with the tinkling of her laugh, echoing through his head.

"_What Dean, you think that works for a second time? I should thank Sammy, he brought all my gems along."_

Dean could feel their weight, many cords and chains around his neck, but no matter how he willed his hands to yank them off, his fingers only continued rubbing the stone.

"Dean!" His attention snapped back to Sam, the panic in his voice throwing Dean into protective mode. "Stop her please!"

Sorrow flowed through Dean, _I'm trying Sammy, I am. _He watched, disgusted and helpless as Sam's hands were forced together by the metal under Tiffany's control. Their eyes met, and Dean knew that Sam could see how trapped both of them were. The witch's laugh echoed again, and this time, Dean's body also joined in, unbidden by its true owner.

As a man who expressed himself physically, Dean's spirit raged against the alien force in his body. His every nerve screamed for him to beat Tiffany into a bloody pulp, and to protect his brother. But none of the tricks he used before worked. Dean lashed out against the witch's confining presence, but to no avail. Apprehension leaked into the pit of his stomach as his body once again moved into action.

"C'mon dear, let Tiffany drive now." Dean wondered if she felt the same nausea he did as they leaned in towards Sam, reaching for his bound arms. He hoped the same stab of guilt assailed her as Sam jerked back against the door, putting as much space between them as he possibly could. That knife twisted as Dean refused to meet his brother's frightened stare. _Fuck Sammy, I'm sorry. All my fault. It's all __my fault. Or possibly this bitch's._

_"Watch your tone boy." _Her voice sneered between his ears. _"The things I could make you do to your precious brother. This trunk has so many lovely toys."_

A growl shook through Dean's psyche that had no effect on his body. No effect whatsoever as his hands jerked at Sam, dragging them both across the seat, and opened the door.

_What are you doing? _Dean couldn't shake the hysteria though he tried to hide it from Tiffany.

"What're you doing?" Sam echoed, without the mask over his panic. "Hey! TIffany! Dean! Whoever you are, talk to me!"

As the witch shoved Sam to the ground, a derisive sneer played across Dean's features. "Oh, don't worry. Nothing yet for you. If brother dear behaves himself."

Though Dean's hand reached for the back door, he really wanted it to be throttling Tiffany. Hell, at this point, if choking himself got rid of her, he'd love the feel of fingers cutting off his own air. However, they just proceeded to grip Sam's upper arms, heaving his younger brother across the back-seat of the Impala. Dean's inward sigh of relief was halted as he unwillingly leaned forward to root around under the front seat. A boot crashed into his ribs, causing TIffany to curse in some forgotten language.

"Sorry Dean." Sam grunted as he brought his leg up as far as the cramped position would allow, and slammed it into his brother's shoulder, driving the witch from the car. On the contrary, Dean was cheering inside. He mentally put his fist into the air as he felt the waves of pain and anger emanating from the parasite in him.

Stumbling out of the car, the witch tapped into Dean's fight training and once again dove into the classic. The Impala shook as each fighter tried to gain the upper-hand. Both fought for their lives, but as Sam was fettered, TIffany eventually got his legs pinned beneath Dean's powerful arms. Both were breathing hard, but as glee shown in the victor, Sam couldn't keep the alarm from clouding his eyes. He knew that Tiffany would make him pay.

Dean had watched the whole exchange as a spectator would at his favorite wrestling match. He hurled insults and tried to distract the witch as he egged his brother on. He fell into apprehensive silence, however, as Tiffany resumed search under the front seat, arm still locked like steel around Sam's struggling legs.

Now, the Winchesters didn't live in filth, and Dean was nearly anal when it came to his baby, but he wouldn't stick his hand underneath their seats for anything less than a free trip to Vegas. Every feeling suddenly magnified under a neutron microscope as Dean's uncontrolled digits grasped at cloth. _Sonova-! NO! _He knew she was listening. _Don't you freaking dare, you sick psycho bitch!_

Her only response was to giggle in a sick mockery of a child. Tiffany reveled in the anger jolting through her host's body. She was a sadist by nature, but her death and reanimation triggered something akin to that of a mass murder's psychosis.

The rag was old, most likely stashed there during Dean's reinvention of the classic car. Navy material was spotted with black stains of motor oil and dirt, edges frayed and holed in places.

Nausea gripped both brothers as they arrived at the same conclusion: where that wretched bit of cloth was going to go.

"What?" Sam tried again to kick out with his legs. Again, Dean felt the muscles in his arms strain to keep his brother down. His mental tirade turned unintelligible, hurling plots of revenge and insults. He had seen the damage caused by the shape-shifter that took his form. It seemed so long ago, but the unconscious nervous twitches that plagued Sam in the weeks after were still fresh in Dean's mind. He knew that Sam looked up to him. To have that image distorted, yet again, by this creature of revenge, was near unbearable. As anger swelled, so did remorse. His chaotic thoughts whirled to Max Miller and what his family did. _God Sammy, this isn't me. I'll get us through this, I promise._

_"Ha!" _Came her screeching voice as she forced Dean's body to slam his lower leg across Sam's knees. "_Dean, ever notice something about your promises? How you never keep them?"_

A grunt of exertion accompanied a cry of pain as Sam's legs became trapped beneath one of Dean's. Normally, a fight would be evenly matched, but the small interior of the car aided the elder Winchester's compact frame.

"No, no. Tiffany, don't! Shit, that thing is disgusting!" In a different world, Dean would've laughed at the grossed out expression on his baby brother's face. Right now, he couldn't tell which urge was larger: to punch a wall, or to crawl into a hold. The violent tendency won out as Dean felt himself lean forward. A wordless cry of rage went unheard to the world as Tiffany pulled Dean's fingers through the caked cloth, only serving to let him know exactly what was going to silence his brother. Dean redoubled his mental onslaught, ruthlessly pounding against the barriers within his skin. But as the rag passed Sam's lips, muffling his protests, the only thing he knew Tiffany felt was the bile rising in his throat. Reflected off her was a disturbed pleasure and growing sense of accomplishment. The vicious knots were tied and her emotions choked Dean as cloth and motor oil choked Sam.

Having grown up around gas and mechanics, both men knew the dangers of inhalation. Though the rag wasn't soaked in it, the fumes still projected a noxious smell and were just as potent as a freshly opened bottle. Fear stabbed at Dean's guts as Sam began to cough and Tiffany hummed a tune in his mind. _SHUT UP!_ Clear green eyes held focus only for Sam. _Don't die on me Sammy. It's not enough to kill, right? Dammit, that'd better not be!_

Sam's back curled as he began to choke, unable to escape the vicious stench. His eyes watered and his hands jerked up to remove the gag. Dean's fear and frustration grew exponentially, punctuated only by his never ending promises of death, maiming, and revenge. If Tiffany hadn't been controlling his breath, it would've hitched as Sam's eyes fluttered then closed completely, his movements ceasing. _SAMMY! Is he breathing? Bitch, he'd better be breathing! _And for once, Dean's shanghaied body moved as he willed it, checking his brother for a pulse. As the comforting thud of Sam's heart jumped against Dean's fingertips, her laughter once again echoed through him.

"_You're so easy to control."_

And as he fell back through the oblivion, Dean was horrified to realize that he was no more in control than he ever was.

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_**so if y'all aren't totally freaked out, or even if you are, reviews are excellent, and may give you more chance of a quicker UD ;) goodnight, and goodluck.**_


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